What's wrath? What is anger
Like me, like me, like me...
I live in a vague world careless of the future that looks into the sky thinking about everything but what matters... it sails rotten lets opportunities drift by and the caresses of the wind dying to show us the way the path the tunnel through which fly clear as the night that makes us all equal with its veil... gives us that chance we let bleed every time we beg for death we beg for rest we beg for peace and eternal joy...
I live in a world where the cultural wall hasn't been able to and won't ever be built, where people no longer care for dreaming and feeling. People come and go nonstop, people even pretend to care, they write vague and empty words of anger... people who would want to understand my words... all of them indifferent before life, not flesh nor spirit nor agonizing ghosts. None enjoys the feeling of being alive, none enjoys their tears their sorrow their longing their joy their sloth their pride their hatred their wrath... their wrath... their wrath... their wrath... their wrath... their wrath... their wrath... theirwrath... theirwrrath... thaiwrthhaitttthhh...
What is wrath?
It's all a bog, all is dust, living yet dry unthankful blood that devours the air, dirty tears full black and vain resentment... I see masks... Nobody cares to build the wall, nobody cares to feel, nobody cares about you, nobody cares about anybody. To grow, to dream with senseless goals and to walk through the snow, through the desert, thinking that someday you'll climb the mountain, where you'll yell at the world that you did it... but it's all useles...
Like me? Like me? Like me? like me? likem>?ike?me?likem3=?
I look at the mountain think it's not worth it look at the snow under my feet moisturing my claws I think who cares I make a small hole and lay my soul down... I don't expect to be rescued, don't expect to rescure anyone, don't expect to cause jealousy, don't expect to cause pity, just want to prove myself I'm different, that I can feel, that the snow under my fur is real to my eyes, it's something soft, caress my emptiness, fipe my tears, drink my blood and let it rest from its vain job for leaving its oily state...
Like me, let yourself die, stop thinking and start feeling... around you life wants to grow and you're just a nuisance...
But I'm like them in the end... like them I also dream, like them I forget life and drink my epic insipid dreams of heroes and leaders, of catasrophic endings where I'm given the chance to save my pack... nothing of that, thingno of that, noning of thhattt, nothingo that... will ever happen... Blessed insipid liquid, thick, acid, covering my throat, sleep my heart and my soul turning me into a staring yet unfeeling gargoyle, like them, like them, like them, like them...
I'm not trying to deny my origins, want not to deny my species... within me a surviving instinct awakes inviting me to take the easy way, to accept the moral of a cultureless and goaless society... it's walking or dying
What should I do?
I've grown in beautiful branches and camouflage, pretending, walking among them, but I'm tired, lose my color, lose my strength...... someone like me......Would you die with me? Would you die with me?
Come with me, lonely soul, together we know what we are, we know what we feel, do not hide in repressions or imbecile optimisms. We take our tears and paint real worlds, without dragons and fairies, worlds full of industry and technology, worlds that can truly exist. Imperfect societies yet full of life. Full of troubles and sorrow because all of it is the magic of living, all of it is how we know who we are
Take my hand, feel my sorrow, my longing... take every feeling, don't discriminate it, don't throw it to the floor, don't step on it, don't regret it, don't deny it... take the bitter flavor of sadness and enjoy it...... please, feel it... tell me not how to cure myself, tell me not how to smile again... tell me you can feel it, that you'll join me in the pain, lick my tears as I'll lick yours, rub your dirty fur full of feelings as you will caress mine. I'll kiss your eyes to let you know that what you see isn't real, the only reality is the one only you and I can appreciate. We're the only ones who understand the emptyness of gargoyles...
Would you die with me?
We walk at night but they cross the boundaries, they shine not for their ingenuity but for their stupidity. Are you with me? I see them and feel hatred... hatred that I don't fear to demonstrate, hate I don't repress, hate that makes me feel distinct and pure, hatred that makes us different from them. Wrath? It's wrath, my tender companion, it's wrath. Wrath that for years has been held prisioner of false prophets, fake gods and untrue morale. Wrath that was abandoned and exiled by the gargoyles, these empty beings. The idiots tricked her, tried to make her vanish, didn't take into account her angelical demonic voice, let the air devour her pure message... let their un-hearts close the door to reality... What reality? We're made to reason, to feel, to develop, to create, to love, to hate... Wrath is a beautiful motivational machine, exhales movement, drinks your blood, proves that in order to love you must hate, and by hating you can live.
Why hide from it?
Wrath is a faithful companion. It's a drug, a sweet poison in your snout, salty in your tongue and bitter in your stomach. It's an infinite display of colors, it's a tender mass you can take in your hands and mold into whatever you wish. It's as beautiful as living... it's as beautiful as you are... you are me, I am you, it is me, the wrath, eternal like he/she who proves its existence, like you and me, faithful to those who accept its cold hand. Take it. And then after the wrath, your wrath, just live the path, a path yet to be discovered, a path your feet create.
WAKEUP.WAKEUP.WAKEUP.WAKEUP.WAKEUP.WAKEUP....
Is it all a dream? You never existed, nor did I, nor the wrath, nor the gargoyles... wait... look at the sky... beautiful gray... eternal... the land awaits, you sigh...yes, it's all been a dream. You can't challenge the world because there is no wall to destroy. There's nothing. We keep on walking, empty, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever,forever...
Are you like me? Call me, I beg you, don't let me die alone in the snow, in the desert. Take me, feel me, kiss me, let me touch your wet fur, your smooth smile, your exquisite tongue... I am yours, but please, show me your wrath... let your wrath tear my face, make me bleed to death... but if I have to die, let it be by your wrath... and in the end, there we'll be, the both of us.
I need someone like me... like me... like me,likemelikemlikemelikeme...
//Strange Are The Ways Of The Wolfhearted...
Like me, like me, like me...
I live in a vague world careless of the future that looks into the sky thinking about everything but what matters... it sails rotten lets opportunities drift by and the caresses of the wind dying to show us the way the path the tunnel through which fly clear as the night that makes us all equal with its veil... gives us that chance we let bleed every time we beg for death we beg for rest we beg for peace and eternal joy...
I live in a world where the cultural wall hasn't been able to and won't ever be built, where people no longer care for dreaming and feeling. People come and go nonstop, people even pretend to care, they write vague and empty words of anger... people who would want to understand my words... all of them indifferent before life, not flesh nor spirit nor agonizing ghosts. None enjoys the feeling of being alive, none enjoys their tears their sorrow their longing their joy their sloth their pride their hatred their wrath... their wrath... their wrath... their wrath... their wrath... their wrath... their wrath... theirwrath... theirwrrath... thaiwrthhaitttthhh...
What is wrath?
It's all a bog, all is dust, living yet dry unthankful blood that devours the air, dirty tears full black and vain resentment... I see masks... Nobody cares to build the wall, nobody cares to feel, nobody cares about you, nobody cares about anybody. To grow, to dream with senseless goals and to walk through the snow, through the desert, thinking that someday you'll climb the mountain, where you'll yell at the world that you did it... but it's all useles...
Like me? Like me? Like me? like me? likem>?ike?me?likem3=?
I look at the mountain think it's not worth it look at the snow under my feet moisturing my claws I think who cares I make a small hole and lay my soul down... I don't expect to be rescued, don't expect to rescure anyone, don't expect to cause jealousy, don't expect to cause pity, just want to prove myself I'm different, that I can feel, that the snow under my fur is real to my eyes, it's something soft, caress my emptiness, fipe my tears, drink my blood and let it rest from its vain job for leaving its oily state...
Like me, let yourself die, stop thinking and start feeling... around you life wants to grow and you're just a nuisance...
But I'm like them in the end... like them I also dream, like them I forget life and drink my epic insipid dreams of heroes and leaders, of catasrophic endings where I'm given the chance to save my pack... nothing of that, thingno of that, noning of thhattt, nothingo that... will ever happen... Blessed insipid liquid, thick, acid, covering my throat, sleep my heart and my soul turning me into a staring yet unfeeling gargoyle, like them, like them, like them, like them...
I'm not trying to deny my origins, want not to deny my species... within me a surviving instinct awakes inviting me to take the easy way, to accept the moral of a cultureless and goaless society... it's walking or dying
What should I do?
I've grown in beautiful branches and camouflage, pretending, walking among them, but I'm tired, lose my color, lose my strength...... someone like me......Would you die with me? Would you die with me?
Come with me, lonely soul, together we know what we are, we know what we feel, do not hide in repressions or imbecile optimisms. We take our tears and paint real worlds, without dragons and fairies, worlds full of industry and technology, worlds that can truly exist. Imperfect societies yet full of life. Full of troubles and sorrow because all of it is the magic of living, all of it is how we know who we are
Take my hand, feel my sorrow, my longing... take every feeling, don't discriminate it, don't throw it to the floor, don't step on it, don't regret it, don't deny it... take the bitter flavor of sadness and enjoy it...... please, feel it... tell me not how to cure myself, tell me not how to smile again... tell me you can feel it, that you'll join me in the pain, lick my tears as I'll lick yours, rub your dirty fur full of feelings as you will caress mine. I'll kiss your eyes to let you know that what you see isn't real, the only reality is the one only you and I can appreciate. We're the only ones who understand the emptyness of gargoyles...
Would you die with me?
We walk at night but they cross the boundaries, they shine not for their ingenuity but for their stupidity. Are you with me? I see them and feel hatred... hatred that I don't fear to demonstrate, hate I don't repress, hate that makes me feel distinct and pure, hatred that makes us different from them. Wrath? It's wrath, my tender companion, it's wrath. Wrath that for years has been held prisioner of false prophets, fake gods and untrue morale. Wrath that was abandoned and exiled by the gargoyles, these empty beings. The idiots tricked her, tried to make her vanish, didn't take into account her angelical demonic voice, let the air devour her pure message... let their un-hearts close the door to reality... What reality? We're made to reason, to feel, to develop, to create, to love, to hate... Wrath is a beautiful motivational machine, exhales movement, drinks your blood, proves that in order to love you must hate, and by hating you can live.
Why hide from it?
Wrath is a faithful companion. It's a drug, a sweet poison in your snout, salty in your tongue and bitter in your stomach. It's an infinite display of colors, it's a tender mass you can take in your hands and mold into whatever you wish. It's as beautiful as living... it's as beautiful as you are... you are me, I am you, it is me, the wrath, eternal like he/she who proves its existence, like you and me, faithful to those who accept its cold hand. Take it. And then after the wrath, your wrath, just live the path, a path yet to be discovered, a path your feet create.
WAKEUP.WAKEUP.WAKEUP.WAKEUP.WAKEUP.WAKEUP....
Is it all a dream? You never existed, nor did I, nor the wrath, nor the gargoyles... wait... look at the sky... beautiful gray... eternal... the land awaits, you sigh...yes, it's all been a dream. You can't challenge the world because there is no wall to destroy. There's nothing. We keep on walking, empty, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever,forever...
Are you like me? Call me, I beg you, don't let me die alone in the snow, in the desert. Take me, feel me, kiss me, let me touch your wet fur, your smooth smile, your exquisite tongue... I am yours, but please, show me your wrath... let your wrath tear my face, make me bleed to death... but if I have to die, let it be by your wrath... and in the end, there we'll be, the both of us.
I need someone like me... like me... like me,likemelikemlikemelikeme...
//Strange Are The Ways Of The Wolfhearted...
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